The last employee bus for United leaves the center core at B Concourse for the airside employee parking lot at midnight. Consequently, everybody at DIA that late in the day wants to make sure they are on it. The alternative is to take the train to the A Concourse and go through those secure exits to ride the bus with other airline employees who work on the A Concourse. Believe me, you don't want to go THAT route.
I've had to do it a couple of times when we arrived AFTER the midnight cutoff. Once I was with some other United people who obviously had done that middle of the night thing before, and they left me while I was trying to badge myself through the door. By the time the bionic reader said "ACCESS GRANTED", they were long gone. And as I looked around in an unfamiliar place, I didn't have a clue where I was supposed to go. It didn't look at all like our bus pick-up areas. I was wandering around in the dark until I saw the lights of the bus approaching and then followed it as quickly as I could to board it several feet away. The other time I don't remember the details, but it was traumatic enough that I DO NOT want to ride the A Concourse bus if I can get out of it.
My trip yesterday was a long, but supposed to be easy, three-legged turn. Mid-afternoon check-in. Three short flights. Same plane. Same cockpit and flight attendant crew. Back by 11 p.m. Even if there were a wheel chair person we had to wait for, it would have been enough time for all passengers to deplane and take the back elevator to the first bus stop. All by midnight....
Only....it didn't happen that way.
When we got on the aircraft in Denver to go to Las Vegas, the pilot told us there was something wrong with the plane. We sat around waiting for mechanics. Finally when they came, they ascertained that we couldn't take that plane. So, we sat around waiting some more until they took an aircraft identical to ours that was coming in from --SOMEWHERE-- and had us take that instead. By then we were over an hour late leaving and the domino effect is in full force.
The next flight, same aircraft, is obviously late arriving in Las Vegas. Then it is late leaving Las Vegas for Los Angeles. Then it is even later leaving Los Angeles for Denver. We're looking at the time. Getting closer to midnight. Fortunately, ATC let us go "fast" and it narrowed the delay to about 40 minutes by the time we got to Denver.
Oh, but it's late night. By this time people have been asleep because they were tired of waiting in the gate area, or for whatever reason. They had a hard time waking up. The caterers and the cleaners were already onboard because this is a "quick turn" meaning the aircraft is late and there isn't the normal amount of time for it to be serviced. There is a jumble of people as I tried to get my suitcase and bags together to get off AND GET TO THE LAST BUS!
I had to run interference with the cleaners and finally shut the lavatory door on one cleaner so my suitcase could clear the small space left for me to go down the aisle. I hurried down the jetway and ran into the crew taking the plane to Dulles. My crew is nowhere in sight. There was no, "Hurry, Georgia. We'll hold the bus." Or taking a minute of two to make sure I was able to get off, too.
NAW! They didn't want to miss the bus either. And now with the mixed crews we have, there is none of the FA loyalty we used to give each other on the UA side as a courtesy. A "good-bye". Or a "nice flying with you." These people are off and gone!
By the time I crossed the concourse and let myself down to the "apron" level and rushed out the door to the tarmac, the bus was on its way to the next stop. Is all I saw were the tail lights.
"Wait! Wait!" As if they could hear me. I stood there and thought, "What am I going to do. Can I go back up the way I came down? And if I did, would I be fast enough to catch the bus at the center core after dodging all those people on the escalators?" Instead, I started to run down the tarmac to the next stop with my suitcase trailing behind me. It wasn't really THAT far away. I ran harder!
I heard a horn honking. Oh, now I'm in trouble for running in this area with all the ground equipment around. But it was a young ramp guy driving an empty baggage train. He pulled to a stop. "Get on! We'll catch it so you can make it out." He reached for my bag and my tote and then held out his hand. Instead I threw my suitcase onto the running board, hitched up my uniform and climbed up to sit in the seat beside him.
We took off! Yet that crazy bus was already stopped and gone at the center core. We screeched around the corner of the terminal and saw it racing to the stop where the ground people get on. It was almost like it was keeping just out of reach. As it got to the last stop, there was actually one lone person who was waiting to get onto the bus. We both yelled at him, "WAIT! WAIT! DON'T LET THE BUS LEAVE!" As that worker disappeared into the bus, I told the ramp guy to stop. I grabbed for my suitcase off the running board and nearly lost my balance as I tried to get to the bus door. The ramp guy was running right behind me with my bag and my tote.
I snapped everything together, told the ramp guy he was the BEST (if I'd had time I would have given him a big hug and a kiss--at least asked his name), and stumbled onto the bus with my stuff. And there were my crew members--shocked to see me! "What happened to you?" they said. We thought you had decided to go the other way." The dialog cloud over my head was saying, "Right! You really gave a care." I went to the back of the bus and sat down to catch my breath.
And that was the wild ride I had to make sure I caught the last bus. I still got home in the wee hours of the morning. But not the EARLY wee hours. Tender mercy for sure--and it will be an entry in the little gratitude journal my ministering sister gave me a few months ago.
Once again--ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL!
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